


Hold me, I need you

by Crab_Lad



Series: Writers Month Good Omens [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crying, Cuddles, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, References to Depression, Tears, uhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 18:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20086666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crab_Lad/pseuds/Crab_Lad
Summary: Days can be hard. Where you feel every atom in your body holding you down and it feels like you're drowning in your own thoughts, feelings, emotions. These are the days where he needs Aziraphale the most. But Crowley never called him for them. Because he couldn't, he didn't know what would happen. Until one day, Aziraphale is there when it happens.





	Hold me, I need you

**Author's Note:**

> prompt was hurt/comfort!! I projected onto Crowley a bit woops. Anyway enjoy!! Here's a sad Crowley getting cuddled and held by Aziraphale

Some days were hard. Some days your thoughts take over and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. A deep ache in your heart, in your bones. Your arms and legs heavy from it. 

These were the days the Bentley stayed silent, where Crowley actually drove the speed limit, where Crowley would nod, but not speak. Sometimes, these days were a little more subtle, where Crowley would try to put on a smile for his angel. But Aziraphale learned to notice the subtle days too. The demon would put less effort in his appearance, sometimes showing up in a black hoodie even. His hair would be messier and his shoes would only be slip ons that he never wore otherwise. Crowley would even keep his distance on these days. Then… the worst days. Crowley would lie in bed, sometimes too bothered to cry, or had already finished crying. He would pull the blankets up so they wrapped around him like a cacoon. Not that Aziraphale saw, Crowley never made these days visible to the angel. 

Which was easier before the apocalypse. Now, with a couple confessions made, furniture moved, it was hard to hide anything from Aziraphale now. The angel still saw the first kinds of days. The days where Crowley would move slow, and the angel would gather him in his arms, make some cocoa, and cuddle with him on the couch. 

The subtle days were easier to handle now. Aziraphale would smother him with love and affection, try to make the demon laugh. He succeeded every time. The demon would through his head back and let out a genuine laugh and the angel could only watch his love with an adoring grin. 

A few months after, however, Crowley woke up slowly. He felt numb. Unfeeling. His skin tingled from it. His mind remained empty. There was nothing. Aziraphale came in, and he couldn’t even care to hide it. 

And the angel knew, instantly, from the blank look in those yellow eyes. 

“Oh dear,” he said, frowning so his eyebrows scrunched together. “I’ll be right back.”

_No, _Crowley wanted to say, _Stay, angel, please. _But he couldn’t, so he nodded. 

The blonde returned with two cups of cocoa, miracled to be the perfect temperature for as long as they wanted. He placed them on the tables beside the bed. Then, Aziraphale slid under the covers and pulled Crowley to him. The demon reveled in the angels cuddle, burying his head in the angel’s neck, while sitting in his lap. Aziraphale had one hand in Crowley’s hair, brushing and soothing, the other around his waist holding him steady. They were silent, there were no words needed. Despite never experiencing this before, Aziraphale just understood. He understood what Crowley needed. No talking, just this. 

It wasn’t long before the tears fell. Aziraphale held him through it, pressing kisses around his face, on his nose, his eyelids, his cheeks, his forehead, and whispering kind words.

“it’s okay,” he said. “You’re okay. Let it out. Don’t hold it in. I’m here. I’m here.”

The crying faded within ten to twenty minutes. Crowley only clung tighter, pressing a kiss to Aziraphale’s collar bone in thanks. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered lowly. No human would’ve heard it.

But an angel did. “It’s alright, my love,” he reassured, “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

Crowley pulled back to wipe at his eyes, but even that felt hallow. “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be like this, I have no reason to be like this.” 

He went to pull away, but Aziraphale’s arms tightened around him.

“Darling, Crowley, Anthony. You have nothing to be sorry for,” Aziraphale promised, cupping the demon’s face with his hands. Tears were already shining once more in those serpentine eyes. “You have _nothing _to be sorry for. It’s okay to feel like this. I’m here to help you, I’m here to hold you when you’re hurting. Even if you don’t know what you’re hurting from, dear.” 

Tears were falling, but Crowley didn’t even bother to wipe these ones away.

“It’s okay. It’s normal. Don’t hate yourself for this. I love you, Anthony. Even if you hurt like this. I will be here to comfort you. You don’t have to be alone anymore.” 

Crowley surged forward and pulled Aziraphale into a desperate, loving, wet kiss. He owed everything to this literal angel beneath him. And maybe, things would be okay now.

**Author's Note:**

> iiiIF you liked that check out my writing tumblr for good omens @goodalexomens and my writing tumblr @dreams-become-stories annnnd if you're a fellow fic writer and wanna join a discord server for good omens, you're place is here! https://discord.gg/vCwpgNw


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